Avery is at the music store at the mall when he spies a studly hard rock guy in need of some cash. That’s exactly the kind of situation Avery loves helping out with! Can he meet his alpha’s musical needs?
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The Tune & String music store at the mall was one of the bigger stores remaining. Nearby was Randall’s Candles, a sad little giftshop, and several vacant storefronts. A KT Toys provided a little vibrancy for about six weeks out of the year, but it was a mausoleum most of the time. The Cinnamon Bun Hut was the most popular attraction at the Pickspring Mall for Avery Flowers, but he was trying not to go there.
The smell was damn alluring though. Last time he came here, he was so desperate for cinnamon buns he ended up making them himself. That was his compromise — no buying thirty thousand calories worth of cinnamon buns. If you want to eat that, you can make it yourself.
But his didn’t smell like the ones at the Cinnamon Bun Hut. They were good, but not that good. Avery was not a baker.
He was not a drummer either, yet Avery was here to buy drumsticks, but there was no one at the counter to check him out. His niece was getting a drum-set for Christmas, and Avery was going to give her the sticks, wrapped, under the tree, so she would open them before she saw the actual drums. Since he didn’t have any kids of his own, he looked forward to seeing that on Christmas Day.
But now there was no one in the music store. It was like a museum of music, full of display cases featuring pianos, saxophones and flutes, alongside rows of shelves of sheet music. There were DVDs too, instructional stuff, and a few odds and ends — even rolling papers and small glass pipes behind the counter.
“Hello? I need to buy drumsticks!”
He heard laughter upstairs, on the little balcony where the pianos sat. Avery craned his head up and could just barely see the clerk. It sounded like an argument up there, a rigorous piano dispute, presumably. The thought made Avery chuckle, imagining who would get into a rigorous piano dispute. He waited politely, but no clerk was forthcoming.
He didn’t want to make a scene, but Avery was ready to get out of there. He wasn’t gonna spend all day waiting to buy drumsticks.
So he went up the stairs. Avery had something else he planned on doing today — going to the other side of town, to this trashy nightclub in the ghetto, where a DJ had promised to let Avery jerk him off for money to buy recording gear. But first, he needed to buy these goddamn drumsticks.
And nobody was here! Avery had been daydreaming and didn’t notice he’d been standing at the counter for what felt like an hour. It was maybe ten minutes. Did nobody work here? He looked around the store. There was no bell to ding to get an employee’s attention.
“Hello? I need to buy drumsticks. Hello?” Avery ascended to the second floor of the music shop.
The clerk was a hipster with a goattee, a mustache and a five o’clock shadow. He was handsome though, and he caught Avery’s eye. He was probably a hit with women. His nametag read “Twig Smitten”, which just had to be a performing name.
There was another man there talking to him. He was a hard-edged hard-rock heavy-metal kind of guy, that much was obvious, with a fat mop of greasy black hair and sunken eyes. He was young, or young-ish anyway, but he had the face of a work-hard life on the road, like a handsome hobo in the Old West. He was strong, but his muscles were haphazard, not toned, you could tell he never lifted weights. He simply worked and lived hard and probably drank more beer than ate solid food. He had a powerful, tattooed chest that nearly bulged out of his sleeveless tee shirt (a black shirt with the demonic skull logo of the band Clusterfuck, which Avery suspected was this man’s band).
He was like something out of the 80s too, with that thrash-metal look, but his dirt-colored mustache — and a scruffy beard behind that — was straight out of the 70s. He was well-muscled, with a blue-collar look to his dusky skin and wind-beaten face.
His name was Logan, and he was trying to browbeat the clerk into giving him the employee discount on the guitar. Logan had a deep rumbly voice with a menacing edge to it. “Come on, man, I know you gave Roger the discount. He said it-“
“Man, Logan, it’s not like that. He used to work here. I need to make my commission-“
“Don’t gimme that shit,” Logan said. He took a step back and pointed a finger at the clerk. His face was ruddy, meaty arms flexing, eyes darting back and forth. “I know you’re allowed to do it. Roger said it’s a rule, you gotta make the sale-“
“It’s not a rule! The employee discount is for employees!”
“I know the manager!”
“Mr. Demetrius said to tell you to go fuck yourself if you ever come in here, Logan!” the clerk Twig Smitten said. He pointed to the exit to the mall itself. “So… you know, go fuck yourself. Somewhere that isn’t here.”
“Don’t be a dick, man! I can kick your fucking ass, y’know, you little punk. Come at me then-” Logan took a step towards the clerk. “I need that guitar, I got a damn show tonight! UPS ruint mine! I can’t — it’s not even here, man, come on!”
“I’ll buy it for you,” Avery said. He stepped in front of Logan, who was taken aback. Avery was so close he could smell Logan’s sweat beneath the scent of bleach, which looked to have been speckled on his black boots earlier. Pale spots now spread over the top of Logan’s feet, and some dotted the lower cuffs of his pants too. Logan’s jaw dropped as he tried to gather his wits and shift focus from kicking ass to talking to a stranger.
“What?” he snapped like he was offended by his own confusion.
Avery smiled despite the tension of the situation. He felt much smaller than either of the other two men, though in fact there was little difference between them. Neverthless Logan loomed large over the trio like a moai, and Avery felt tiny before him. Avery patted him on the side, feeling the meaty thickness of his body above his ribcage. That sleeveless shirt he wore reeked of his armpit sweat and his body hair and again of bleach. Avery said, “I’ll buy you the guitar. The whole thing. No employee discount.”
“What?”
Avery smiled. The clerk had backed way off, so Avery lowered his voice, that way only Logan could hear. “I’ll jerk you off. We’ll go in the mall bathroom, and I’ll jerk you off. Okay? I’ll swallow your dick you so good you forget how to play guitar-“
He scoffed. “I…” Logan wiped some of the sweat off his brow. “Shit… uh…”
“I’ll deep-throat you so good…” Avery sucked on his finger. Logan’s eyes opened wide. Avery could sense Logan’s dick twitching, but Logan covered it up by shifting his weight between his feet. He cleared his throat.
“Don’t you want me to like… take a shower or some shit? I just got off work, I got band practice in a bit-
“Don’t you dare shower, I like my men unfiltered,” Avery said. He took Logan by the hand and led him back down the stairs. The gawky clerk was there watching. “We’ll be back to buy that guitar. And drumsticks.”
“Drumsticks? I don’t want drumsticks-“
“Unless you came out of my sister’s vagina, they’re not for you. Let’s go.”
“I ain’t say I’d do it,” Logan said.
“Then you’re on your way out of the store, right?” Avery said. “Either way, this is the route.” He pointed towards the door out of the mall. The bathrooms were by there too.
“Uh…” Logan stopped. “You’ll really buy the whole guitar? You ain’t playin’?”
“I never play about that,” Avery said with a serious look on his face. Then he laughed. “That’s not true, I do play about jacking men off. But I’m not kidding about doing it. I’ll jerk your dick til the cows come home. Or is there a heavy metal equivalent of that? I’ll jerk you off til the heavy metal singer smiles?”
“I ain’t a metal singer. I sing rock. Hard rock. Not metal.” Logan furrowed his brow at Avery. “I don’t cotton to the metal scene. They’s all about the goths. You know about the goths? I don’t do the goths.”
“Hmm… Yeah, I get’cha,” Avery said. “I like rock too, sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that — I’m not really a music aficionado.”
“You not scammin’ me, right? You got the cash?”
“I got it. And I’ll even buy you some extra strings, okay?”
Logan sighed. “Okay, but you can’t tell no one, man. I ain’t… He chuckled. “I never got a man to jerk me off when I was sober before. Usually it’s only when I struck out for the night.”
“No shit, really?”
“Uh-huh. I got this buddy, he does it when I’m drunk,” Logan said. Avery sunk to the floor as Logan closed the door. “He thinks I’s too drunk to know he done it, but I know.”
Avery undid Logan’s fly and belt. His mud-splattered jeans fell to the floor, which was good because that muffled the smell of bleach from his boots. He had had to work his community service first thing in the morning — he had mopped the floors at a ranger station in a state park, hence the bleach on his boots — before going to his regular job as a janitor.
“So what’s your band like?”
Logan’s anxiety disappeared — he was at his most confident when he was performing, so thinking about his band made him relax. “Aw, man, we rock hard as shit, man. You goin’ to the Tough One Fun Run? We gonna play at that. Cluster-F. We Clusterfuck, but they only sayin’ Cluster-F on the radio. We got a followin’, man. I got groupies and shit.” He checked that the door to the bathroom was locked, then reached into his pants around his ankles and fished out a pack of smokes. He seemed completely disinterested in Avery pulling his boxers down. His sleeveless black tee was short, so it wasn’t in the way of his cock, which bounced free and jabbed Avery in the face. Logan said, “We’s like, uh, hard rock, y’know, boogie-rock and shit, man. We all used to play AC/DC songs before we was writin’ our own-“
“Awesome, AC/DC’s great,” Avery said. He really had no special love for AC/DC, but he wanted to get on Logan’s good side.
“Yeah. We rock hard, man, swear to God. You know Black Crowes? I met them once, swear to God,” he said. He saw his dick dangling and bit his lip. This got suddenly more real, just before his cock disappeared into Avery’s mouth. His eyes opened wide. “They was arrogant shits, man, fuck them, fuck!” He groaned. “They owe me money too, like a hundred eighty bucks, man, swear to God. Buncha shitheads, and they talk a bunch of shit, they can’t back it up.” Even as he talked like he hadn’t noticed what his dick was doing, he was already pumping his hips back and forth, treating Avery’s mouth like a pussy. His dick wasn’t hard yet. That was good. Logan thought a man shouldn’t get hard too easy if there’s no woman around. Not even any porno.
Avery’s mouth was soft and warm, and it felt good. Logan sighed. He was usually so relaxed when this happened because he was drunk, and it didn’t feel real. This had felt entirely too real right up until it began. It wasn’t a big deal.
Now that it had begun, Logan felt silly being reluctant and slow to get started.
While Logan had been very drunk the first few times he let his friend jerk him off, he’d lately done it whenever he could. It just got easier the older he became, and nowadays, he’d usually whip it out even if he only had a few beers.
It actually felt even better than his buddy’s mouthjobs. His dick firmed up right away, and it throbbed hotly in Avery’s mouth. Avery was surprised that it happened so quick once it got started — Logan had been a bit slow to get into it, because he was talking about his band. But now that his mouth was shut, his dick rocketed to full erection immediately.
“Goddamn…” Logan’s throaty voice grunted.
He probably sounded good as a singer, Avery thought, nice and bluesy, like a non-hipster Tom Waits. He wanted to ask if Logan sang or just played guitar, but his mouth was full, and Logan’s hands gripped his head, making it hard to speak. Avery didn’t want to stop long enough to ask.
He opened his throat as wide as he could, letting Logan’s filthy cock slide in, even as Avery’s throat clenched and fought back. He sputtered, choking around the blue-collar filth that coated his tongue. It was a bit sour and loamy like soil, with a fresh, sunny flavor that made Avery wonder if he took his dick out on the job — it sure tasted like the outside. You could tell he worked outdoors all day.
“Shit… You do it better than my buddy,” Logan said, his voice a little wavery, almost giddy. He didn’t add — though he thought it — that Avery did it better than any woman either. He didn’t want to admit that.
Avery looked up to make eye contact with him, but Logan wasn’t looking down at him. Logan kept an eye on the door to be sure no one came in and interrupted them. Someone did try the doorknob, but the lock stopped them, and they walked away.
His arms stretched up, his hands creeping under Logan’s raggedy black tee shirt. Logan didn’t seem to notice. Avery’s hands made it to his nipples, and then his whole body twitched. Logan groaned. He lifted his shirt off and tossed it on the toilet. Moments later, it slipped into the toilet bowl. Logan’s eyes were closed, so he hadn’t noticed that yet, and Avery faced the other way, so he didn’t see it either.
Logan had nice pecs that flexed beneath Avery’s touch. He wasn’t muscular like a bodybuilder, you could tell he didn’t work out at all — his glamour muscles were underdeveloped, it was the real, actual muscles that were built up — and his arms, since he spent hours every night practicing guitar.
His right arm in particular bulged. It was as thick as Avery’s head, and as hard as rock when Avery managed to massage it without pulling off Logan’s dick. When he started to taste precum, however, Avery did pull off, just to give him a rest. He didn’t want Logan to cum too quickly.
“C’mon, man…” Logan’s throaty voice was hot and breathless, almost begging. He tried to whisper out of a general desire for discretion, even though nobody could possibly hear, and his voice was too deep anyway to really be quiet. He kept humping his hips even when his cock popped out of Avery’s mouth. He fucked the air while Avery’s mouth and lips traveled up his body.
He had never shaved his chest, so his belly had a fine trail of brownish blond hair. Avery sucked on his skin, traveling up to the much furrier valley in between his meaty pecs. Avery attacked each nipple, sucking on them both while he gripped Logan’s dick with both hands.
“Shit, man…” Logan couldn’t believe how good it felt.
His dick stayed hard, pulsating, leaking precum into Avery’s fingers. Avery’s tongue snaked over his armpit, to that massive guitar-playing right bicep. Avery wasn’t ordinarily a muscle-queen, but Logan’s arm was delightful. Avery sucked all the sweat and dust off it — since Logan had worn a sleeveless shirt today, his skin was dirty and tasted of asphalt. Avery sucked all the grime off, while Logan furrowed his brow in confusion — he wouldn’t have guessed anybody wanted to lick literal dirt off his arm.
“You wanna ram me?” Avery asked. He didn’t wait for an answer. He dropped his pants, turned around and displayed his ass for Logan — he guessed that Logan was the kind of man who might say no right up until he saw Avery’s tight pale hole.
“Shit…” Logan grunted. A part of his mind said he should refuse, or pretend to refuse in order to get more money. But he was too horny to stop.
So he didn’t refuse. He wanted to get deep in that tight asshole. Even as his mind started coming up with a plan to get more money out of Avery, his cock was ramming itself into his ass.
Before Logan knew it, he was already inside Avery, to the root, and Avery had let out a long low howl. No girl ever let Logan plow her like this. Avery kept his ass high and his head low, nearly on the cold linoleum floor of the bathroom.
“Goddamn, man,” Logan said with a loud roar. He pounded on his chest. He roared like Tarzan and flexed his pecs, and he slapped Avery’s asscheeks until the sound rang out and Avery groaned. You could see the pleasure flowing through his body in his muscles rippling, his body hair becoming matted to his skin with a fresh layer of sweat.
“Holy shit…” Avery said with a panting gasp, the sensations flowing through him so intense he had to wrench the words out of his throat. “If you play guitar as good as you plow, your band is goin’ places…”
“I wish, man…” Logan said. He heard a knock on the door to the bathroom, but it seemed distant and unimportant. He heard the security guard Gerald say something. Logan hated Gerald, who had called the cops on him last month because he thought Logan was homeless — Logan was merely sleeping on a bench near the mall doors. “Fuck off, Gerald!” he shouted towards the door. Then he lowered his head and voice, and spoke to Avery. “We better hurry up. Gerald’s a fucking moron, but he’ll get the key and come in here eventually.”
“Okay,” Avery said, his voice weak and wavery because he was already on the verge of his orgasm. He didn’t much care about getting caught either.
“Gonna put you in a headlock, don’t worry, I won’t hurtcha,” Logan said. He grimaced as he wrapped that massive guitar-playing arm around Avery’s neck. He didn’t know why he wanted to do that so bad, except that he had tried once when fucking a girl and she reacted like he did something terrible. She said his hairy body was kind of gross, she didn’t want to be wrapped up in his sweaty arms like that.
So it was nice for Logan that Avery didn’t seem upset about his hairy body or the musk of his armpits. He wrapped both arms around his face, and Logan even let Avery bite down as they both orgasmed. Avery gnawed on Logan’s rock-hard arm-flesh, while Avery sprayed a massive wad onto the floor of the bathroom.
Logan’s creamy cum flowed into Avery in great thick wads. Logan didn’t shoot a stream like most men, he sprayed in short but massive spurts that kept coming and coming. Each time he did, his whole body twitched again, muscles all tensing and rubbing against Avery’s smooth back.
“Hey! Open the door, sir! You have to let me in! This is mall security! My name is Gerald!”
Logan snorted mid-orgasm — Gerald was so self-important it hurt to hear him. Logan sighed, breath condensing on Avery’s cheek as the last few drops of his cum drained into Avery’s tight asshole.
Another loud knock on the door, which rattled in its frame. Then Gerald swore as he walked away. “Hello?! I’m getting the key!”
Logan scoffed and chuckled. He pulled his dick out, letting his entire load drip out too. He pulled Avery back and aimed his ass down so that entire cumwad would flow out onto the floor. Logan’s moist, crackling voice filled the air. “C’mon, let’s get dressed. Leave a big mess for that tubby security motherfucker.”
The bathroom was hot and humid now, or at least it seemed that way to Avery. It stank too, ina good way from Avery’s perspective. Logan was less enthused. It was the smell of fucking fat chicks at a show, he thought. That ain’t a good smell. It signifies something good, but it is not good. Logan wrinkled his nose.
“Stinks in here, man, fuckin’-A,” Logan said. His dick swayed and jiggled between his legs. Logan looked down at it, in no hurry to tuck it away. He shrugged. “You want some tickets to our next show. Gimme ya phone number, I’ll send you tickets.”
Avery was too tired to think. He just nodded and smiled, his ass aching. He stretched his legs and hurried to pull his pants on, then texted Logan so he could get those tickets. Avery was probably not going to go, he was just being polite. Logan was the singer in a rock band — at a show, he was going to have women to fuck. Avery might as well be invisible. He didn’t really want to listen to Clusterfuck’s music.
But he liked the idea. They must have something on an app, Avery could listen to it to be polite. And it was obvious the real reason Logan wanted Avery’s phone number so he could arrange a meet-up some other time, when he had a hardon and no groupie around to fuck.
It was only then that they both noticed Logan’s shirt in the toilet.
Logan laughed. “Hell yeah, Gerald gonna have to do somethin’ ‘bout that.” He turned around to leave without the shirt. “He gonna get toilet water all over himself! Fuckin’ bitch!” He spat in the direction he imagined Gerald was in, but his spit simply splattered on the wall of the bathroom.
Avery usually cleaned himself off pretty good, but he was in a hurry. Logan didn’t care — Logan tucked his dick away without even wiping all the santorum off it, and he just walked out on bare feet and shirtless. Avery raced to follow him while Logan put his shoes and socks on out in the mall.
Everyone stared at Logan’s bare chest, which was hairy and gleaming with sweat. Avery’s hair was a mess, Logan was shirtless, both their clothes crooked. Logan hopped along as he slid into those bleach-stained boots.
Gerald the security guard was on his way back with the key when they saw him. He scowled at Logan and said, “You can’t be in the mall without a shirt on, man, I’ll call the cops again.”
Logan shrugged. “Fuck you, Gerald.” He went with Avery to the music store.
Avery was a law-abiding person, more or less. So telling a security guard to fuck off and hanging around shirtless in contravention of the rules while cops were on the way was nerve-wracking for him. Logan didn’t seem to care.
The clerk took Avery’s money. He cast a sideways glance at Logan but didn’t complain about the lack of a shirt — it was Avery who actually paid for the guitar, strings and drumsticks, after all, so there was no point in kicking Logan out and causing another argument with him.
“Shit, fuck yeah,” Logan said when Avery handed him the guitar. “Gonna sound good tonight.”
Avery smiled and blushed as he followed Logan out. “What was your band’s name again?”
“Clusterfuck. All one word. Look us up, we’s on YouTube and Google and Spotify,” he said. Then he added, more shamefacedly, “And join the Facebook group. That’s good for us, for real.”
“I definitely will.”
